Category: Baby Loss/Miscarriage

As some of you may know, I have had three miscarriages between having my Son and Daughter.

There were times, during each one (as every time is different), where I questioned the changes my body-and mind-were going through. Asking is this normal? is a constant question that runs through your mind.

What I wish I’d know about miscarriage is all about exactly that-the things I wish someone had told me, or that I’d known during those terrible times.

Every woman’s miscarriage is different.One woman could have one symptom, the other can have something completely different. When you Google miscarriage symptoms or try to find out what’s happening to you, you assume all you read will happen to you. Sometimes not all of those things do happen. Sometimes, they all happen, (plus possibly unlisted ones). It’s as important during miscarriage as it is during pregnancy, to never compare yourself to others. Primary healthcare professionals are your best bet to check what’s happening is normal for you.

Following on from the above; The pain isn’t always “like a bad period”.Oh my days, I genuinely thought that’s what it would feel like, a bad period. It turns out (especially with my first miscarriage), it’s nothing like a bad period. I won’t go into details about exactly what mine were like-as I say, each person goes through it in different ways, and some may have it like a bad period-but in my experience, this isn’t true. I feel labelling it as “a bad period” isn’t reflecting what a woman is about to go through.

Partners need support too.
This is so super important, I’d quite happily walk around with a sandwich board preaching about how important it is.
I’ll come back to the mental health side of miscarriage for the woman in a minute, but the effect on the partner is SO relative.
While you, the woman have been planning for your future with your new baby, so has your partner. They aren’t made of stone, they aren’t always brave. Remember that and make sure you both get the support you need during such a sad time.

Mental Health Matters
Yep, I’m going to go there. As some of you may be aware, I have depression and anxiety brought on from a form of PTSD. When we think of PTSD we think of soldiers in the war etc, but, it can affect anyone who’s been through a trauma.
I had no mental health aftercare advice given to me after any of my miscarriages. Because of this, five years on, I’m now suffering with the above mental health problems.
Get help. See someone. This isn’t an easy thing for you to go through, especially not on your own.

There is no time scale for healing
It doesn’t take a certain amount of time. There are no rules. You’re grieving, and that’s OK for as long as you need to come to terms with, and process, the awful events that have happened.

You will be OK
You won’t get over it. You won’t ever forget it. But you will be OK. There’s so much hope and love to be found, that’s what’s needed to move you forward. It feels shit. It breaks your heart. You will genuinely feel like you’re going to be broken forever. Time really is a great healer, and you will get there.

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Today we celebrate our 12th anniversary. 12 years of memories-the best days and the worst days. I can’t list 12 years worth of memories-so here are just some…….
On the 28th of March 2005, an 18 year old me, and a 19 year old you met in our local town. We’d known each other (on and off) since we were 7

Within a few months (6 to be exact), we were on our first holiday together.

The 6th of October 2005 you asked me to be your wife. We didn’t even live together but I knew I wanted to marry you.

At the end of March 2006 we moved in together. Our first flat and we loved it.

5th June 2009. Our world changed. I was pregnant. Unplanned but so wanted we realised we really wanted to be parents.

17th June 2009. You supported me during one of the toughest times. Nanny dying, while I was pregnant and planning our wedding was tough. But you stayed strong for me.

1st August 2009. The day i became your wife.
One of the best days of my life-becoming one with you.

7th February 2010. Our son was born. Kye George Peter Willson, bundled into our lives and turned them upside down. Another of my favourite days-watching you become a Daddy was one of the best things I’ve ever seen.

28th September 2011. Our family was growing. Another baby on the way. Our hearts were fuller then they’ve ever been. Plans for our new arrival were underway.

26th October 2011. Our new baby was gone. 8 weeks 3 days. No heartbeat. No baby.
Once again you were so strong. You kept me going when my world had crumbled.

1st September 2012. We tried for so long to have another baby after we lost our angel. We fell pregnant again. But just days later we lost another angel. I was distraught. You were strong once more.

7th November 2012. Another lost baby. I was done. Numb. No more babies for us. You said we’d see what happened. I was done.

27th January 2013. Emergency appointment at the early pregnancy unit. A scan showed a beating heart. Another chance-our 5th pregnancy.

27th September 2013. Olivia-May Barbara Willson-our rainbow after so many storms. Our family was complete and so was my heart.

Mental Health.
Following Olivia’s 1st birthday-I realised something was wrong. I wasn’t feeling myself and I wanted it sorted.

Since my first visit to the doctor regarding how I felt, up until today, I’ve had counselling, and I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety and depression all caused by my miscarriages.

You give me the support I so often need, so much that I often worry you’re too strong too often.
Since being diagnosed with those mental illnesses, I’ve bought my website. I now write anything I fancy, any time.My Work.
You often tell me how clever I am. How good my writing is. You don’t realise how much those words mean to me.I now go to blogger events, often having a meltdown before every single one, and have regular anxiety and panic attacks. But you always have hope and faith in me. You tell me I can do it. You tell me I’ll be fine. You’re always right but you know I’ll not remember the next time I’m facing that battle-so you tell me again and again each time.

You.
You work so hard for our family. I know it’s not easy. I’m so proud you’re so hard working and a perfect role model for our children.
12 years have passed and we’re not the same people we once were. So much has changed. We’ve changed. But we’re still us. We’re still one. We’re still together.

I am grateful for you, I am thankful to fate for bringing us together. And I love you today, and every day.

With Mothers Day fast approaching, those with children, throw themselves into celebrating-seldom giving thought to those who aren’t celebrating as they should be able to.

With 1 in 4 women losing a baby during pregnancy or birth, that’s 1 in 4 women, not celebrating being a Mum on a day that should be theirs.

Then there are those women who’ve had babies before their losses, in between their losses, or after their losses. Those that are told to be happy that they have children-to be grateful they’ve already got their babies. Those that are questioned on how they can still dwell on their losses, when they went on to carry their children to term.

This Mothers Day-we all might spare a thought for those struggling through the day-regardless of circumstance.

Every Mothers Day, since I’ve had my children, I receive a card and some gifts from my Son and Daughter.

Something that I don’t mention, is the slight tainted feeling surrounding not just Mothers Day, but most celebrations that my children take part in.

In complete honesty, I long for the cards and gifts I’ll never get given, from the children I’ll never meet.

I know what people would think/say; how can I long for things from three little blobs on a screen. Three little “things” that never grew, were never held, never nursed, never seen.

My answer will always be; because those three “things” were always loved, always wanted, always mine.

Yes I have two children-but I’m a Mum of five. I carried five babies-regardless of how long for, or the outcome. I have two babies celebrating Mothers Day with me here on Earth, but three angels I wish I could celebrate with too.

I understand that it doesn’t make sense to some. I understand people’s assumptions that I should be happy with the two I have.

Most of me is happy-I focus on my two little ones, and the joy I feel when they burst in excitedly, with shouts of HAPPY MOTHERS DAY MUMMY!!!

But the day-to-day grief that has filled my life since we lost our three little ones, is hard enough, without it being amplified during celebrations such as Mothers Day.

Everything is tainted-it has been from the day we lost our first angel.Everyday is a challenge-it always has been.

But everyday is filled with love-love for my children, my husband, my family and of course, love and constant recognition of my angels.

I’m content in my world, and will continue celebrating another Mothers Day as a Mum of five.

Last week, I had an interview with a well known women’s magazine, who want to run a story about my miscarriages, and mental health issues following my losses.

My initial reaction was that I would do it-I didn’t even think of saying no.

I’ve come to realise just how important talking about miscarriages is.

I get that it’s so very personal to people. That moment you not only type those words you’ve been thinking for so long, but know that you’re going to have strangers look at them, is basically terrifying.

I remember the first time I wrote down my feelings regarding my miscarriages-the sheer panic that people were going to judge me. That they were going to comment negatively on me releasing feelings that I should keep to myself. People who didn’t want to hear the intimate details of what my body went through, and subsequently what my mind then went through.

To date, I’ve never had one negative comment, one hateful message, one person telling me they don’t think I should be posting about my experiences.

If anything, I’ve received more than my fair share of positive messages and comments. Women messaging me telling me my posts could be written about their stories, about their personal experiences.

I knew going in to this that nothing would be secret anymore. My deepest darkest secrets would be out there in black and white, for the world to see-and I know now how much of an amazing thing that is to do.

I’ve never felt so alone as I did when I lost my three babies-so abnormal when I realised I had mental health issues.

Talking about these things, sharing my story, has not only made me realise I’m not alone in any of it, but that by talking, just talking, big things will happen.

Right now, researchers are working to find out why these things happen. Their hard work is going to change the amount of women who suffer with complications during pregnancy-meaning further issues will not arise-meaning less women suffering with mental health issues following their trauma.

Just by talking and sharing, we can raise awareness, for those who have already suffered, and for those who may suffer in the future.

Just by talking and sharing, we can help those researching baby loss issues.

Just by talking and sharing, you can help one woman feel less alone than she did yesterday.

Keep talking, keep sharing, and together we can change these things.

Change will not come if we wait for some other person, or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for, we are the change that we seek.

Barack Obama

As I mentioned above, change is coming-and it’s thanks to people like the researchers working alongside Tommy’s that are making this happen. Find out more about the research HERE, and how you can help HERE.

Yesterday I received an email from a fellow blogger, asking me to run her story of her feelings following her second miscarriage.

Right now, she’s unable to blog her feelings herself, not wanting her family to know her current situation. Some may find this unusual. but in actual fact its really normal to want to keep that anonymity, especially when the initial news of an impending pregnancy wasn’t announced.

Here’s her story;

More and more I am wondering “What If?”

What if things had been different?

What if I had carried my baby to term?

Today would have seen me reaching the 36th week of my pregnancy.

And, as my due date draws ever nearer, I am filled with the pain and emotions of my loss.

I am constantly wondering why.

Why did it have to be this way?

I didn’t want any more children.

My family was already complete.

We were happy the way we were.

But even though it wasn’t planned, the news of my pregnancy filled me with SO much joy.

And also fear.

How would we cope?

How would my family and friends react?

I already have a large family, and the response from others was likely to be one of disappointment and a chorus of “You’re pregnant? AGAIN??”

The fear was crippling.

The idea of having another baby, starting again when my other children were all about to be in full time education, the sleepless nights, etc.

But then there was the love.

The very idea of this beautiful little baby, completely innocent and pure.

Growing inside of me.

Just waiting to be born, and loved, and cherished.

Mine.

Ours.

Today I would have been 36 weeks pregnant.

But I am not.

Instead, at 11 weeks gestation, my baby died.

No longer growing.

No longer mine.

Gone.

And all that was left…. IS left…. is pain.

Sadness.

Heartbreak.

And guilt.

Guilt for being afraid of other people’s reactions.

Guilt for not rejoicing in our news and sharing it sooner.

It would have been hard, but it would also have been perfect.

We would have adjusted.

We would be getting ready to welcome our baby and celebrate the life he or she had ahead of them.

Instead, we never had the chance to share our news.

And so I suffer alone.

This is my second loss.

But, for reasons unknown, it has affected me a lot more than my first.

So yesterday, after what actually happened to be a rather mundane day after the events on Wednesday, I received an email from a lovely lady at Tommy’s!

Basically, myself and Tommy’s have worked together for a little while, with them running campaigns to raise awareness for baby loss and other pregnancy issues, and me, well, I blog about them.

The email said I’ve been shortlisted for a Mums Voice Award, at the Tommy’s Awards 2017.

This award is given to a Mum, who has spoken out about her own pregnancy experiences, and in doing so has helped and given hope and support to others.

I have been invited to the awards ceremony next March, which will be hosted by Giovanna Fletcher, and I’ve obviously confirmed I’ll go!

The winners will be announced early next year, and, although its not the main factor of how they choose their winner, there is a way you can get involved.

In order to help decide the winner, Tommy’s have asked me to ask my readers (that’s you beautiful lot) to email mumsvoice@tommys.org, with the subject line “Mayflower Blogs”, and a sentence about why you’d love me to win the award!
I’d just like to add, this is beyond a dream to me.

Most people will know, the reason I blog, and the reason I started blogging, was because, based on my own experiences, I know how hard it was to lose one baby, then two, then three, and feel so terribly alone, with no one who knew what I was going through to talk to. I couldn’t sit by and watch others go through that, and I knew, if just one person in a similar situation read my blog, and felt less alone, then I’d helped.
To be shortlisted for this award based on that reason, is testament to why I write what I write, and I’m eternally grateful for Tommy’s putting me forward for it, and for those that vote for me who believe I deserve it.

This is by far one of the easiest blogs I think I’ve ever written, and will probably ever write.

It is a blog filled with different messages-those of hope, sadness, disbelief, anger, thanks and fellowship.

Today, I was made aware, that the BBC, and other news outlets were talking about a subject so close to my heart.

For months (possibly over a year), I’ve been blogging about my experiences of baby loss, trying to raise awareness for recurrent miscarriages and mental health issues surrounding and following on from losing a baby.

Most of the blogs I write, highlight two major mental health issues, incidentally, two I suffer from-anxiety and depression. But these issues stem from one other diagnosis I have also been given, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).

Months have been spent, blogging about this subject, and never having it picked up on by anyone. The overriding consistencies throughout mine and others experiences are that people suffer from anxiety and depression following the loss of a baby during early pregnancy.

Today, PTSD has been recognised by so many people as a issue now suffered by more than is acceptable. A lack of aftercare following early pregnancy losses, has shown to magnify mental health issues.

One of my blogs surrounding my issues was shared today by Tommy’s here. The response has been overwhelming to say the least. I am saddened, by the amount of mothers who have commented with similar stories to mine-those of hopelessness, loneliness and defeat.

Those women who felt like they were alone in what they were going through, because the people who were supposed to help them, didn’t.

Those women who felt like they, like me, were losing the person they used to be, taken over by fear, anxiety, depression, and sadness.

Those women who had lost so many babies, but hadn’t been told why they’d lost so many, it had become the “new normal” in their lives.

Those women who are currently going through a miscarriage, who are concerned that there is no help, no one to turn to, and have been told “it’s just something that happens”.

To those women I just want to say, you’re never alone. I would message every single one of you if I could, all day, every day, comforting you and helping you feel like you have someone. I want you to get the help and aftercare you not only need, but deserve. You’ve lost a baby, your baby-that doesn’t “just happen” and it isn’t something you’ll “get over”. You need to speak with people that can help-you need correct aftercare that is going to help you understand why what’s happened, has happened.

Things have to change, this has never been acceptable, and will no longer be accepted by those of us who’ve lost babies.

The “thanks” I mentioned at the beginning of this blog, has come from those who have messaged me thanking me for my honesty and braveness when writing about my experiences. Others have thanked me for making them feel less alone, and giving them the fight to go and get help. This is why I blog-so these messages mean more to me than you can imagine.

The other reason for the thanks, comes from me. I’d like to thank those who continuously support me, and my ranting blogging. This subject is something so super close to my heart, I’d move heaven and high water to change everything about it. The stigma attached to talking about it, the process you go through during a miscarriage, the aftercare (or lack of it in mine and so many others cases), just everything. The support from those who message me, from those who comment on my posts, from friends and family continuously helping me through the bad days, those are the people I’m thankful for. The continuous support shown to me from Tommy’s and The Miscarriage Association, is also something I am truly grateful for-and I will continue to support them in their campaigns as they have supported me through mine.

Please remember, you’re not alone, ever. Lets fight for the aftercare we all deserve so badly.

Today’s blog is for the baby charity, Tommy’s who are leading a campaign to raise awareness of reduced fetal movements during pregnancy. The campaign is supported by Kicks Count and NHS England, alongside the hashtags #movementsmatter and #KickMeBabyOneMoreTime.
This is a campaign particularly close to my heart. As some of you may know, I have been pregnant 5 times. During the first pregnancy with my son, I wasn’t aware at all of checking the amount of times my baby moved. In all honesty, I sailed through that pregnancy, and didn’t give a second thought that anything could go wrong. As I mention in a previous blog, The Mummy He Used To Know, I pretty much took the entire pregnancy for granted (without realising of course).

Then over the following couple of years, we endured the traumas of three recurrent miscarriages. And I suppose that’s where everything changed. I ended up with severe anxiety, and, when falling pregnant with my daughter, I panicked constantly, from beginning to end, that we were going to lose her.

That’s when I did some research into reduced fetal movement. I wanted to make sure I was feeling my baby girl move as much as she should be, and what to do when those movements were reduced.

On only one occasion, did I have to act upon my concerns for my baby, when, along with horrific pain, a temperature and faintness, I hadn’t felt her move for the best part of an afternoon. I did all the websites told me to do, ate something sugary, drank a cold drink, laid on different sides. Nothing.

I called the maternity unit in my local hospital and was told to come in. In fairness I was pretty adamant I was coming in, so I’m not sure I gave the leading midwife much choice! In all honesty, the pain was bad enough to take me up there but the reduced movements, alongside my already anxious mind pushed me further.

The pain ended up being a urine infection, (another beautiful pregnancy effect, people fail to mention will more than likely happen to you!) The reduced movements, were nothing serious. The midwife said the pain I was in with the urine infection were more than likely masking the movements, and I was so focused on the pain I just hadn’t noticed her moving. All was fine, and I went on to have a healthy baby girl.

The difference between my story and so many others, is that sometimes, a mum-to-be won’t go and get checked. 52% of women asked, during a recent survey, have said, they would be worried about looking for help when they notice reduced movements due to a fear of “wasting midwives time”. Please don’t worry about wasting anyones time. Midwives are there to care for you and your baby, go to them if you think anything is wrong with your baby during pregnancy. Trust your instincts.

You are never wasting a midwifes time with your concerns. You know your body, and you know the baby growing inside you. If you think there’s a problem, get it checked. The age old quote “it’s better to be safe than sorry” should be imprinted on your mind during pregnancy. The alternative just isn’t worth the risk.

In a recent study, around half of women who had a still birth, said that they had noticed that their babies movements had slowed down.

For every 220 babies born in the UK, 1 is stillborn, and in the UK we rank 24th out of 49 high-income countries for the amount of stillbirths that occur.* For a country with such an impressive healthcare service, this isn’t acceptable. 1 in 220 is not ok!

That’s why this campaign has been set up. To raise awareness of reduced fetal movements and to help mums-to-be, whether this is their 1st, 2nd, 3rd or 4th baby, that they must seek help if they feel something is wrong.

In Norway, a similar campaign was run, and it cut the rate of stillbirth down by a third-we could do that here in the UK too!

Tommy’s have provided me with this lovely link to a video about reduced fetal movements. Please take a look as it explains so much about what I have highlighted so far.

There is no specific number that everyone must follow to count the number of movements a baby has. You know how much your baby moves. Personally, both of mine, moved more in the afternoon and evening than they did in the morning. Your baby may be different. All pregnancies are different, and what is a normal amount of movements for your baby, will not be the same as another mums. Comparing them and panicking because your friend/family member has a more active baby isn’t how this works. You will know your baby has reduced the amount of movements, because you become aware of their natural individual pattern.

If you’re reading this, currently pregnant, and think you could do with getting checked out because you haven’t felt your baby move as much today, call your midwife. If she’s not available, call your local hospital maternity unit. Be insistent. Explain your concerns and that you would like to be checked out. Do not put that phone call off until the next day.

As I said, this sort of information wasn’t available when I had my son, but it was when I was pregnant with my daughter. I recommend using this information for yourselves, but also spreading the word to your other mummy-to-be friends, who either may not have a clue about any of it, or may have been misinformed in the past and need clarification.

Sharing this, could save a babies life. We could prevent that 1 in 220……

Thank you.

*Statistics taken from Tommys research.

To find out more about reduced fetal movements and the Tommys campaign-click here.

Today marks the final day of Baby Loss Awareness Week, and on this day, the day is marked by something called The Wave of Light.

For those that haven’t participated before, and would like to know more-you’re in the right place!

The Wave Of Light

On October the 15th, to mark the final day of Baby Loss Awareness week, everyone is invited to light a candle (or however many candles you want to light), at 7pm. These candles signify all babies, taken too soon, born sleeping, lost before they met their Mummy’s, Daddy’s, Siblings and Families. You don’t have to have lost a baby to light the candle, you could light it for someone you know who’s lost a baby, or just plainly for all those babies around the world taken too soon. By participating, and leaving your candle lit for a minimum of an hour, you will be taking part in a worldwide “wave” of light across the globe.

Ahead of tonight’s Wave Of Light, The Miscarriage Association have set up a candle gallery on our “Days That Matter” website. They hope to create a memorial video from the images sent to them, and you can find out more information on how to take part by following the link to their Facebook page here.

Finally, I’d like to say some Thank You’s before I end my final post this week on this subject.

Every day this week, I’ve blogged or shared blogs to try and raise awareness on the subject of baby loss. All were greatly received, but yesterday, after publishing one of the most personal (and long) blogs I’ve ever done, the response was truly overwhelming. Messages of support, comments of gratitude for my words, and the amount of views, shares and likes, literally blew me away. So if you’re one of those people, who liked, shared, commented, messaged, or viewed, I’d like to thank you.

To have a post that’s so personal to me liked so much, is amazing in itself, but to have the message of baby loss awareness, spread so far and the chance I’ve made just one person feel less alone in what they’re currently going through, or have gone through, makes me happier for that, than for anything else.

To those that continue to support me on my journey, to help me through dark days and listen/read when I choose to speak about it, I thank you too. I literally couldn’t do any of this without you.

I was a mummy already-to a beautiful baby boy when our lives changed. He was unplanned, just as our second baby was.

Yet, 2 little lines on a pregnancy test, didn’t scare us the second time around. We knew we wanted two babies, and as our first little bundle was so amazing, we knew we could have another.

I was so excited! I booked in to see the midwife to get my dates all sorted out, and soon after, I saw her and she confirmed our new little one was due in June!
We told our parents, and our close friends and family, and I began rooting through baby magazines, taking vitamins, and planning double pushchairs and where the new baby would sleep.
My husband, the excited Daddy to be, got a loan, to pay off all our debts and to get us out of the horrid flat we lived in, so we could start a new life, with our complete family.

A month later, when the sickness was just starting, and we were all into the full swing of how more amazing our little family was about to become, something changed everything we knew and the people we were.

I was collecting up socks for the washing basket, and as I lifted the basket to take it through to the machine, I felt a strange little sensation in my tummy. To this day, I swear I could hear this “pop” sound.

I put everything down, and calmly went to the toilet, almost knowing something wasn’t right.
There, on the tissue, was enough to stop me in my tracks. Blood.

I walked out of the bathroom and stood outside was my little man, asking me for juice. I got his juice, sat him on the sofa, and put his favourite programme on, while I shook to my very core, and mentally located my phone.

I called my husband, who never answers his phone at work, but who, happened to be on a break. “I’m bleeding love, you need to come home now”.
I then called my mother in law. “I’m bleeding, I need to go to the hospital”. I asked her to watch our son, and she came straight away.

I sat on the end of my bed, cradling my little bloated tummy in my arms, and pleaded with our baby to stay. “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me“, I repeated over and over.

The journey to the hospital was filled with my nerves, and my husbands optimism that we’d got it all wrong. He kept telling me some women bleed during pregnancy, but I knew the truth.

I had a scan, a blood test, and was told there was no heartbeat or baby anymore. They said that I could’ve got my dates wrong, and to come back in 6 days to check again, but I knew the truth.

When we got home, my husband told his mother what they’d said at the hospital, and I just couldn’t take it. “I know the truth!”

Within days, I bled more, and the pains worsened. We celebrated Halloween with our boy, and I just got on with it. I ignored the pain, drugged myself up with painkillers, and acted normal.

4 days later, I physically lost our baby, and mentally, the floodgates opened.
We went back to the hospital and they confirmed what I’d known all along. Our baby was gone.

We were offered no form of help, to aid us in dealing with our grief, or to explain our next steps. We were sent on our way to continue our lives.

In the months that followed we went back to normal-the only difference being, I was now desperate for a baby. Instead of grieving for our precious little life we’d lost I put my efforts into buying ovulation tests, tracking my cycle, and trying to get pregnant again.
Months and months went by, and when we didn’t have any luck, I actually convinced myself that the miscarriage had damaged me somehow. Then, 10 months after we lost our baby, I got those two important lines on a pregnancy test once again.
Expecting to be elated by this, excited perhaps, grateful we’d been given another chance, I instead felt nothing.

We told my dad, we told my husbands parents. Instead of it being news I wanted excitement and happiness from, I told people in case I needed support, if the same happened again.

This time I didn’t go to a midwife straight away, I allowed myself to work out my dates, because I needed to make sure I was aware in case we lost another.

A few days later, that’s exactly what happened.

There was no hospital trip this time. There was just more pain, more blood, more heartache.

As soon as it was all over, we went back to trying, and within a month fell again, and lost again, and I felt….nothing.

“I’m done”, I thought, deciding I would put my time into bringing up my son, and not bother trying ever again, because there was no point!

People were often sympathetic, some, not so much.

“Maybe they were all girls, and you can’t carry girls”.
“You’re trying too hard”.
“Think positively instead of assuming the worst will happen”.

It was, after I’d had the third miscarriage confirmed, I was offered tests to see the cause of the miscarriages, which medically now had a name-‘recurrent miscarriages’.
I had a blood clotting test which came back fine and the tests were set to continue to see if they could find a reason why this kept happening to me.

On Christmas Day night, that same year, after a large amount of alcohol, baby number 5 was conceived.
I found out a week before our sons 3rd Birthday in February 2013, and promptly began throwing up pretty much all day every day.
I had no attachment to this new pregnancy. I lived each day believing this one would leave us too.

We were referred to the Early Pregnancy Unit, where we had scans at 6, 7, 8 and 11 weeks, and all progressed normally. We saw its little heart beating, but all I kept thinking was “this is going to be so much harder to lose, now we’ve seen its heartbeat”.

Our 12 week scan date came around, a milestone we hadn’t made with the three miscarriages. And there, in the middle of the screen, was this little blob, still with a heartbeat.
My husband squeezed my hand, clearly optimistic again, but I still couldn’t bring myself to be excited, to be happy, to feel anything.

The pregnancy progressed. I got fat. The sickness continued way past 4 months. Our 20 week scan came around, and I was put under consultant care because of my history.
The day we found out we were having a little girl, I thought my head might explode. For so long I’d battled with the worry I couldn’t carry girls, and wouldn’t have another baby.
We went to Primark to buy something for our daughter, and I walked around in a complete daze for around 20 minutes, before announcing to my husband, “I need to go home”.

I had scans constantly through the pregnancy, and as I got bigger, felt her kicking, and in one pretty amazing scan, saw her beautiful face, I started to allow myself to feel like I was going to have a baby!

After a beautiful labour, on the 27th of September 2013, our baby girl was born!!!!!!

Fast forward 3 years and I am a content mummy to a wonderful 6 year old son, and 2 year old daughter.
They’re happy, healthy, and make me and their daddy proud beyond words, day in, day out.

Fast forward 3 years however, and I’m not the person I once was.
I have been diagnosed with PTSD, which I was told was down to the trauma caused by each miscarriage, and the lack of follow up care given from professionals.
I have severe anxiety disorder. Brought on from being so unbelievably paranoid and anxious during every pregnancy, including our daughters, which has spilled over into my life since them, also bringing with it, social anxiety and panic attacks.
I also have mild depression currently. I say currently because, those who have depression will understand, the moods that come with it, fluctuate day to day. I have been told I never grieved for those babies we lost, instead I got on with making the next one, fuelled by that rather than stopping to be sad for the children we lost.

There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wonder, what they’d have looked like, what they would’ve achieved, who they’d be as they grew.

The lasting effects and my continual mental health issues, surrounding the recurrent miscarriages, could’ve been prevented, had I received proper after care and help following the losses.
More needs to be done to help women in these situations, more information is needed, and tests should be carried out quicker and sooner.

I want those women, who share in my experiences, who feel let down, who need help right now, who see similarities in my story, to know, you’re not alone, you’re never alone – please find someone to speak to, and get help for what you’re going through.